


The Latest Shard

by Ellia Bronsky (Ellia_Bronsky)



Series: The Latest Shard [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Horcruxes, Human Voldemort, M/M, Romance, Selfcest, Threesome - M/M/M, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22015535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellia_Bronsky/pseuds/Ellia%20Bronsky
Summary: "...The first time Harry sees them is during the Welcoming Feast of his eighth year at Hogwarts. They look like father and son, but Harry knows better. He sees a discreet red glint in the eyes of the elder, who’s seating at the staff table, and notices how the younger winces, when playing with his red-and-gold tie......He could have prevented all this charade by the simple agreement to do as everyone expected him to: by sacrificing himself and the monster within him together with the monster standing in front of him with a wand raised and the Killing Curse flying his way...."
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort, Voldemort/Voldemort
Series: The Latest Shard [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584644
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	1. The beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had envisioned the first scene of the story and invented the reasoning and foundation for it. Then I was hardpressed (as usual) to find the holes and inconsistencies in the original which could have allowed for this all to happen even in canon. Hence you would see snippets from canon here and there – either extended or amended by me for the purposes of this particular story.
> 
> For your convenience my version of the events is marked in some way (like bits of text put in _italics_ to distinguish from the original, canonical flow of the story). As some snippets are rather long I’ve decided against doing them _italicized_ since it’s not too comfortable to read long parts of text formatted this way. Instead I’ve opted to reverse the traditional way of quoting, placing special formatting only on that which is of my own invention.
> 
> Other formatting is done in my usual style:  
> " _Parseltongue_ "  
> ' _mental conversation/thoughts_ '  
> 'quotations' (i.e. something in quotation marks, but inside a bigger phrase already put in "double quotation marks": direct speech, titles and names etc.)  
>  ** _emphasis_** inside phrase in _Parsel_ or _mind-talk_  
>  **emphasis** elsewhere outside phrases in italics
> 
> * * *

_absit omen [let an omen be absent]_ *

  


The first time Harry sees them is during the Welcoming Feast of his eighth (technically, seventh) year at Hogwarts, several months after the Final Battle.

They look like father and son, but Harry knows better. He sees a discreet red glint in the eyes of the elder, who’s seating at the staff table, and notices how the younger winces, when playing with his red-and-gold tie, seating at Harry’s own former table, among Griffindors.

Harry himself is still in shock over re-sorting of those who started anew, by the Hat’s words, as, also technically, Hogwarts magic allowed only seven years of study, so the students returning for their eight/seventh year were to be resorted. He landed in Slytherin, which was not very surprising, considering his argument with the Hat all those years ago, but some other students’ changes of House were truly remarkable, to say the least.

For instance, Nevill is now proudly wearing yellows, sitting among Hufflepuffs. Hermione’s nose is, as usual, buried in a book, but among blue sea of Ravenclaw-uniformed students similarly hunched over their books Hermione’s posture looks at home.

Ron – well, Ron never changes (Harry smiles with a sad fondness) – so the red-head occupies his customary seat amidst the Griffindors, his sister flanking him on one side and, shockingly, Draco Malfoy – on the other. The former Slytherin is also fiddling with his new tie with a surprised look, at times switched with a mild disgust.

Harry’s eyes return to the staff table and then – back to the other side of the room. He watches like a hawk, eyes never wandering elsewhere for more than a minute a time, supervising the pair of identical haircuts of brown locks neatly arranged in the same style, two sets of dark-blue eyes (with one set sporting red sparkles still), carefully chosen old-fashioned robes and trousers, which both men are clad in.

For a moment Harry’s gaze locks with the purplish of the older man at the staff table. A brow is risen in silent question. A mouth’ corner is twitching in mockery.

Harry turns away, furrowing, feeling a beginning of a headache forming deep inside his wracking brain.

There’s a quiet snort, which hears only Harry – after all, it sounds only in his mind. Then a drawl is heard in his head ‘ _You’d make a hole in me, Potter. Stop staring!_ ’

Harry winces and looks down at his plate: it is still empty and clean, although, he clearly remembers eating something or the other (he does not remember the taste).

Harry looks up again, returning to his discreet watch over the two most dangerous men in this hall, no, in the whole Britain, or, possibly, in this part of the world, even.

‘ _And don’t look at him, either!!!_ ’ the voice in his head snaps. ‘ _I can tell he’s upset over it!_ ’

Harry stubbornly refuses to communicate with the bastard, be it mentally or vocally. He scrunches his nose in disgust, when his eyes fall on his plate: there is spinach, some fish and a leaf of salad, which he doesn’t remember placing there – the other is trying to make him eat, taking control of his body while Harry is distracted, ignoring his violent glares and silent protests.

‘ _You should sustain that scrawny body of yours, after all we both live off that energy,_ ’ the same voice reminds him. ‘ _And don’t look at me like this, that was your choice to spare me._ ’

Harry closes his eyes in defeat – the voice in his head is right, it is his own doing. The product of his own weakness, of his selfish wish to live and to stay innocent of murder. He could have prevented all this charade by the simple agreement to do as everyone, especially Dumbldore, expected him to – by sacrificing himself and the monster within him together with the monster standing in front of him with a wand raised and the Killing Curse flying his way. Instead he had cowardly and soft-heartedly chosen to spare that ugly baby, to pick it up from under that bench on that misty platform. To embrace it, to nurse it in his lap, while he and the old Headmaster conversed. To hold it close to his chest, when he decided to return to the world of the living, shield it with his body and his cloak to give to Narcissa, who happened to help him, albeit not too willingly. The Battle unfolded with a baby wailing, and keening, and whining in the background, unnoticed by most, especially those, who might’ve been concerned in this little monster the most: Harry was distracted by all the events, surrounding his “wondrous resurrection”, and the Dark Lord was occupied with his killing spree.

  


  
__________

* Or, “ _let this not be a bad omen_ ”. Expresses the wish that something seemingly ill-boding does not turn out to be an omen for future events, and calls on Divine protection against evil.


	2. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains snippets from the original “Harry Potter and the Deatly Hollows” story.
> 
> The _italics_ indicate my additions or amends to the original text, which had been written by great J.K. Rowling with all due respect and love for the author and her great work, which inspired so many fan written fiction stories out there, including this one.
> 
> These snippets from the original book are necessary to better understand my story, which follows afterwards, and to see what I’ve seen in the book, and which inspired me to try and fill in the holes and inconsistencies I’ve found, allowing me to invent this story exactly like it is.
> 
> * * *

He stood up, looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement? The longer he looked, the more there was to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above him in sunlight. Perhaps it was a palace. All was hushed and still, except for those odd thumping and whimpering noises coming from somewhere close by in the mist. . . . 

Harry turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear, domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there, except for — 

_The same_ noise continued to reach him through the unformed nothingness that surrounded him: the small soft thumpings of something that flapped, flailed, and struggled. It was a pitiful noise, yet also slightly indecent. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on something furtive, shameful.

He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering under a seat where it had been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath.

He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless he drew slowly nearer, ready to jump back at any moment. Soon he stood near enough to touch it, yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

“You cannot help.” _That decided it: Harry picked up the monstrous baby and spun around._

Albus Dumbledore was walking toward him, sprightly and upright, wearing sweeping robes of midnight blue.

“Harry.” He spread his arms wide, and his hands were both whole and white and undamaged. “You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man. Let us walk.” _The baby in Harry’s arms wailed louder and kicked an air with its twisted ugly legs. Harry patted it on the cheek and hushed lowly. Then he followed the Headmaster and they walked and talked for a long time and he was holding the baby close to his chest, calming and lulling it to sleep the whole time._

 _When they at last finished their long and hard discussion Dumbledore smiled at him._ “We are in King’s Cross, you say? I think that if you decided not to go back, you would be able to . . . let’s say . . . board a train.”

“And where would it take me?”

“On,” said Dumbledore simply.

Silence again.

“Voldemort’s got the Elder Wand.”

“True. Voldemort has the Elder Wand.”

“But you want me to go back?”

“I think,” said Dumbledore, “that if you choose to return, there is a chance that he may be finished for good. I cannot promise it. But I know this, Harry, that you have less to fear from returning here than he does.”

Harry glanced again at the raw-looking thing that trembled and choked _in his lap_.

“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love. By returning, you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, then we say good-bye for the present.”

_At that time a whistle was heard not unlike that of the Hogwarts Express._

_Dumbledore beamed at him._

_“Oh, then you’ve chosen Hogwarts?” he hummed in satisfaction._

_Harry gave him a one-sided smile, rightening the baby in his arms and trying to wrap it in his t-shirt._

_“Who knows?” Harry smirked and boarded the bright-red train that arrived at that minute, an ugly looking baby in his arms._

_They arrived shortly, the baby sleeping soundly all the time of their trip._

  


~8~

  


_The moment Harry stepped off the Express, the very second his both feet touched the platform all of the surrounding scene blurred and disappeared into blackness._

He was lying face-down on the ground again. The smell of the forest filled his nostrils. He could feel the cold hard ground beneath his cheek, and the hinge of his glasses, which had been knocked sideways by the fall, cutting into his temple. Every inch of him ached, and the place where the Killing Curse had hit him felt like the bruise of an iron-clad punch. He did not stir, but remained exactly where he had fallen, with his left arm bent out at an awkward angle and his mouth gaping.

He had expected to hear cheers of triumph and jubilation at his death, but instead hurried footsteps, whispers, and solicitous murmurs filled the air.

“My Lord . . . my Lord . . .”

It was Bellatrix’s voice, and she spoke as if to a lover. Harry did not dare open his eyes, but allowed his other senses to explore his predicament. He knew that his wand was still stowed beneath his robes because he could feel it pressed between his chest and the ground. A slight cushioning effect in the area of his stomach told him that the Invisibility Cloak was also there, stuffed out of sight, _or rather wrapped around something._

_Then something small and bony kicked into his robs right through his Cloak._

_Petrified, Harry tried to feel the offending thing, at the same time not moving a muscle. Just in time! The second he realised that it must be the same monster-baby from his dream-vision, hidden and concealed by his body for now, the ugly thing tried to wail, only Harry’s hand on its small face stopping the sounds._

“My Lord . . .”

“That will do,” said Voldemort’s voice.

More footsteps: Several people were backing away from the same spot. Desperate to see what was happening and why, Harry opened his eyes by a millimeter.

Voldemort seemed to be getting to his feet. Various Death Eaters were hurrying away from him, returning to the crowd lining the clearing. Bellatrix alone remained behind, kneeling beside Voldemort.

Harry closed his eyes again and considered what he had seen. The Death Eaters had been huddled around Voldemort, who seemed to have fallen to the ground. Something had happened when he had hit Harry with the Killing Curse. Had Voldemort too collapsed? It seemed like it. And both of them had fallen briefly unconscious and both of them had now returned. . . . 

“My Lord, let me —”

“I do not require assistance,” said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand. “The boy . . . Is he dead?”

There was complete silence in the clearing. Nobody approached Harry, but he felt their concentrated gaze; it seemed to press him harder into the ground, and he was terrified a finger or an eyelid might twitch.

“You,” said Voldemort, and there was a bang and a small shriek of pain. “Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead.”

Harry did not know who had been sent to verify He could only lie there, with his heart thumping traitorously, and wait to be examined, but at the same time noting, small comfort though it was, that Voldemort was wary of approaching him, that Voldemort suspected that all had not gone to plan. . . . 

Hands, softer than he had been expecting, touched Harry’s face, pulled back an eyelid, crept beneath his shirt, down to his chest, and felt his heart. He could hear the woman’s fast breathing, her long hair tickled his face. He knew that she could feel the steady pounding of life against his ribs.

“Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?”

The whisper was barely audible; her lips were an inch from his ear, her head bent so low that her long hair shielded his face from the onlookers.

“Yes,” he breathed back. “ _Take this,” he twitched his hand slightly, guiding Narcissa’s hand towards the knot from Cloak wrapped around the baby. He felt the hand on his own contract in agreement;_ her nails pierced him. Then it was withdrawn. She had sat up.

“He is dead!” Narcissa Malfoy called to the watchers . . . 

  


~8~

  


. . . Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy’s shell.

They moved Voldemort’s body and laid it in a chamber off the Hall . . . 

  


~8~

  


. . . Harry found himself sitting on a bench beside Luna.

“I’d want some peace and quiet, if it were me,” she said.

“I’d love some,” he replied.

“I’ll distract them all,” she said. “Use your Cloak.”

_Harry winced, remembering, that the Cloak was in temporary possession of Mrs. Malfoy. He looked around him, searching for the blond heads._

_“Thanks, Luna. I just remembered something, but anyway, thanks.” He stood up, when spotted the three Malfoys, huddled together as though unsure whether or not they were supposed to be there, but nobody was paying them any attention._

_Harry hurried to their side, the discomfiture now visible on his face – he remembered why exactly he gave the Cloak to Narcissa._

_“Mrs. Malfoy, may I have back what I’ve loaned you?” He issued through his teeth, when approaching the blond aristocrats._

_“Certainly, Mr. Potter,” wearing her usual expression – as if something stank right under her nose – Narcissa carefully held out something invisible to him. “Here. I tried my best...” she trailed off, seeing his eyes, now glinting with something indecipherable but strong._

_“Thank you,” Harry muttered, already turning on his heels to leave._

_“Might I inquire why?” Narcissa asked lowly._

_Harry cringed._

_“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, before he left in haste._

  


. . . Everywhere he looked he saw families reunited, and finally, he saw the two whose company he craved most.

“It’s me,” he muttered, crouching down between them. “Will you come with me?”

They stood up at once, and together he, Ron, and Hermione left the Great Hall.

  


_. . . “Harry,” Hermione asked in trembling voice, looking at the empty spot where the Dark Lord’s body should have been. “Does it mean we’re back on the road again?” She sniffed miserably._

_“For now let’s not talk about it to anyone,” Harry suggested quietly, though inside he, too, was trembling – with anger, and tiredness, and so many emotions, he could not distinguish them apart. “Maybe, that’s normal when using Horcruxes – that your body evaporates after the last one is down.” He shrugged._

_“We’d need to research it, though. To make sure.” Hermione said in small voice._

_“Yeah,” Ron agreed in voice thick with emotions. “If necessary, we could go hunting them again.”_

_Harry put a hand around them both in a tight embrace._

_“Thank you, guys. I don’t know what I’d be doing without you!” . . ._

  


~8~

  


. . . Harry held up the Elder Wand, and Ron and Hermione looked at it with a reverence that, even in his befuddled and sleep-deprived state, Harry did not like to see.

“I don’t want it,” said Harry.

“What?” said Ron loudly. “Are you mental?”

“I know it’s powerful,” said Harry wearily. “But I was happier with mine. So . . .”

He rummaged in the pouch hung around his neck, and pulled out the two halves of holly still just connected by the finest thread of phoenix feather. Hermione had said that they could not be repaired, that the damage was too severe. All he knew was that if this did not work, nothing would.

He laid the broken wand upon the headmaster’s desk, touched it with the very tip of the Elder Wand, and said, “ Reparo.”

_“What about the Hat, Harry?”_

_“Hat? What hat?”_

_“This one, you, twit!” Hermione took out the Sorting Hat, or what remained of it, from her magical pouch. “Could you try to fix it, too?” She pleaded. “McGonagall almost drowned the poor thing in tears, when she found it.”_

_Harry shrugged and waived the Elder Wand one last time: “Reparo.” . . ._

  


~8~

  


_. . . “Harry, what’s wrong with your hand? You’re holding it as though it’s wounded, or something!” Ginny exclaimed worriedly._

_“It is okay, Gin. That’s just my Cloak over there.” Harry tried to dismiss the matter._

_“Your Cloak? Why?”_

_Sighing, Harry pointed to the side:  
“Can you bring Herm and Ron over there,” he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the mentioned pair, huddled in one of the Hall’s corners, “to the Room of Requirement? I’ll explain.”_


	3. Before the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the last bit I'm sharing today! It was necessary to show you all three parts of the beginning of this story in one go so that I could elaborate more on what to expect further. I promise, the chapters to come won't be so filler-like and so short! You know me, right? More often than not I struggle to shorten my overloaded chapters and not lengthen them. I just felt they should be split up like this for the story flow, that's all.  
> And happy holidays to you all, dears! May you have a wonderful and eventful year with only good to share stories about! Cheers!
> 
> * * *

Harry was strolling back and forth along the empty corridor of the Seventh Floor opposite a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

At last, after several strolls in front of the wall, the door appeared.

Harry let out a tired sigh of satisfaction and gestured towards the entrance to the Room of Requirement, inviting those who waited for him patiently (for the most part): his best friends – Ron and Hermione, and his girlfriend – Ginny; the trio of Malfoys – Lucius, Narcissa and Draco – completed this strange company.

“I’ll explain everything to all of you inside. Please, come in,” he ushered his bewildered audience in with one hand, his other obviously holding something, though it was invisible.

  


Once everyone got inside and got seated at simply looking sofas and chairs, surrounding the lit fireplace, which the Room provided for its guests, Harry finally removed the Cloak of Invisibility, revealing the suspicious looking bundle of rags underneath. The bundle was moving at odd moments, giving the feeling it was alive, though no sounds escaped form inside the knots.

“We have a problem,” Harry deadpanned. Then turned towards his friends, “Herm, Ron, remember, I’ve taken you to the chamber where we’d put Voldemort’s body?”

“Yeah, mate. It disappeared!” Ron exclaimed loudly, making elder Malfoys startle. Draco’s face lost all color at hearing that.

“Wh-what?!” he let out an undignified squeak, coughed, then continued in more normal, though clearly still frightened tone, “What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?! How’s that possible?!”

“Indeed, Mr. Potter, please, elaborate,” Lucius pleaded in a more subdued, than his son’s, tone, although he, too, was obviously shocked. Only Narcissa out of them three appeared more calm, aside from slight nervous twitch of her left eye.

“Harry?” Hermione prompted him tentatively, seeing as he still didn’t say a word, after dropping the proverbial bomb.

Harry took a deep breath as if before a dive, than started talking:  
“Firstly Malfoys here need to know about those things, guys. Which we hunted down all these months.”

“What?!” Ron barked. “Are you mad?! Are you suggesting we lay all to their feet after all this secrecy?!”

“Ron, please,” Harry pleaded. “That’s important that they know. Not everything, obviously, but the main part.” He turned to Lucius and Narcissa. “Have you ever heard of the Horcruxes?”

Lucius raised an inquiring brow, while Narcissa just shook her head in negative.

“Allow me, Harry,” Hermione suggested, continuing after his nod, “I won’t go into tiny details but the short version goes like this: there is very old and very dark magic, which somehow allows the caster to split their soul in order to reach immortality. Well, almost. The Horcruxes – the soul pieces – are put into something for safekeeping, and if the owner of that soul is, for example, killed, these things allow them to be resurrected with the help of those Horcruxes. Something like that. The Dark Lord had got his soul splintered into many tiny shreds, that’s why he’s become the monster we know him to be.” She shook her head disapprovingly and looked back at Harry.

“Do you understand this, Mr. Malfoy? Mrs. Malfoy?” Harry looked at each of them in turn and waited for confirmation nods. Then turned to Draco. “And you?” Young Malfoy also nodded, though he still looked puzzled.

“But, harry, what the Horcruxes have to do with anything? I thought they were all destroyed,” Hermione asked.

“Kind of,” Harry winced, than retrieved his wand and swished it above the clothing bundle on his lap in a familiar gesture to lift the Silencio charm off of it. Immediately the room filled with sounds of baby crying and wailing.

Almost everyone, except for Narcissa, jumped at the sound.

“Tell me you didn’t get some stray girl pregnant while we weren’t looking. Cause it looks like you cheated on my sister!” Ron pointed an accusing finger at his friend, looking angry.

“No!” Harry’s face twisted in attempt of a smile. “That’s not how it looks, Ginny!” here he turned to his girlfriend.

“Then what is this thing?!” Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. “And ugly looking, at that!”

“That’s our biggest problem,” Harry sighed, then scanned the faces of those around him. “This is baby Dark Lord.”

He received shocked gasps in response.

“Wh-where it come from?” Hermione’s voice trembled.

“I don’t know what was that place. I just appeared there when Voldemort threw _Avada_ at me in the Forest. I think it was something like a Veil, oh, well, more like beyond the Veil, actually. Remember that Arc from the Department of Mysteries?” he got a round of nods from most of his audience, only Draco looking like he didn’t understand what he was talking about. “That was like an afterlife of sorts,” Harry elaborated. “I’ve stumbled upon the baby there. I was told to just leave it, but couldn’t. It was so miserable, just lying there, crying and freezing,” he rubbed his forehead with a frown of a man with a forming headache. “I think it is the part of Voldemort’s soul which had been in my scar all this time. He must have killed it. Or tried to. Of course, he didn’t know what he was doing, so –”

Ron bristled.

“I don’t get it! If you know what it is, then – why bring it here?” he exclaimed.

“Ron,” Hermione put a calming hand on her boyfriend’s arm. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

“Harry Potter is well-known for his soft heart,” Lucius supplied in quiet tone holding no mockery in it.

“Harry, I certainly do not have the right to complain, after all I had also once believed in this monster,” Ginny smiled sadly, “But are you sure?”

“Absolutely . . . Not,” Harry shook his head, squinting his eyes shut in anticipation of the potential storm of arguments to come after his statement. There was none. “But I am absolutely sure of one thing: I am no killer. Especially – of newborn babies. I think all of you agree with me on this. I don’t want to turn into that monster I supposedly saved us all from.”

“I was told by a wise man,” he continued when heard no further arguments, “that we should pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.  
“And Tom Riddle here – he was like this. He was conceived without love. And all his life he lived without. He never knew it. Maybe that’s why he turned out like he did at the end – a monster, ugly inside and out, with his only drive being to kill and torture. After all, he once was the most brilliant of students that Hogwarts had, the fairest. But all this went to the drain when he destructed his soul – only because he didn’t believe he had one.”

“What does your scar have to do with all this? You’ve mentioned that the part of that soul was in it,” Draco inquired.

“One of Voldemort’s soul-pieces accidentally got into my scar when he tried to kill me in my crib. And, when we’ve met in the Forest just recently, he tried to finish me, but, again – accidentally managed to dislodge that soul-piece. I think, if I’d decided to leave the baby where I found it, that soul piece would have been killed.”

“So what now – we have a baby Dark Lord at our hands and the one who should have been dead is possibly wandering out there somewhere?” Ron clarified.

“You got the gist of it,” Harry nodded with humorless crooked smirk. “Thanks to Mrs. Malfoy this poor thing survived all of the commotion, but unfortunately I don’t know what to do with a baby,” he shrugged helplessly and threw a pleading look at Narcissa. “Will you be willing to help me further, Mr. Malfoy? I suppose you probably wouldn’t care for it in the first place if you knew back then what it this thing, but –” he made puppy eyes at her.

The woman shook her head.

“No, Mr. Potter. If not for my son I didn’t step up to help you in the Forest, true. But baby – it’s entirely different thing. No woman in her right mind would abandon a little baby. And here in the Wizarding community we cherish the rare blessings, which are magical children, even more. As for that particular baby – I may not be very glad to up-bring a man who once put my whole family on our knees, but I suppose we truly can try to change him for the better this time around.”

“Mr. Malfoy, what do you think?” Harry asked.

“You, Mr. Potter – are something,” Lucius responded shaking his head in bewilderment. “I think I just found a diamond. I don’t held any hard feelings towards the one who spared my family a miserable life of servitude at the madman’s feet. Please, consider me your good friend from this moment on, Mr. Potter. I can’t decide for my wife and son, of course, but they hardly think differently.” He discreetly nudged Draco to speak up.

“Father, Mother, pardon me, but I don’t see how this is good for us Malfoys. We’ve served that ugly man before. Now we’re flanking this scar-head. That’s simply change of owners, I say, and nothing more!”

Ron and Ginny both rolled their eyes at a stubborn Slytherin, while Hermione shook her head in exasperation.

“I don’t need servants, Draco. It’s your free choice – to stay or to go. I don’t force anyone,” Harry noted calmly. “I just thought you have the right to know that aforementioned madman can very well be still alive – and in need of followers to stomp upon their backs,” he added smiling nastily.

Draco shuddered.

“I hope you’re joking, four-eyes,” he muttered. “How do you know that he didn’t just fade because of that soul-magic ending?” he asked.

“Point made, Malfoy. We thought of that already. I even said that to the others who know of the Horcruxes,” Harry nodded. “Still I have a gut feeling that the Dark Lord still lives.”

“Maybe you mistake that suspicion with the baby’s aura?” Ginny suggested.

“Again, that may be true, but – ” Harry produced something from one of his pockets. “Here. Look at the Map,” he suggested tiredly.

“What Map?” Draco’s interest peaked up. “Isn’t it that thing which allowed you to wander Hogwarts’ corridors at nights without getting caught all these years?” He inquired with curiosity.

“You’re right, Malfoy. Also it allowed me to see you fixing that Cabinet and bringing Death Eaters at the school’s step,” Harry gritted. “So can you, please, forget about our measly feud already? We have a big problem I tell you!” Harry snapped.

“Fine, Potthead, show me your funny paper, then,” Draco returned disgruntled.

“ _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ ,” Harry incanted, knocking with his wand at the folded Map. It briefly showed them the note from Messirs Moony, Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail, before unfolding in full.

Harry indicated at all of their names, cluttered together just to the side of the empty Seventh Floor corridor.

“This Room doesn’t show on the Map, but still we’re all here. See?” He made something with his wand, so that the small patch zoomed in and the names became clearer and got separated from each other: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy were listed, as well as the one Tom Marvolo Riddle-Potter, almost on top of Harry’s name.

Draco burst out laughing, earning ugly glares form most of the Griffindors, and only Harry was smirking crookedly:  
“I don’t know what caused this, and I agree, it’s somewhat funny. But anyway – I was going to say that this Map cannot be deceived, not even by Poly-juice or Spells. It once showed us certain Rat where Ron’s familiar should have been. So I’d believe the thing.” Harry put his wand to the Map again, making it to zoom out, then quickly scanned the paper in search of something. “A-ha! Here,” his wand pointed at one of the names near the entrance to the Great Hall, or rather – just outside it and shuffling out towards the castle grounds. The name looked familiar – ‘Tom Marvolo’ although the surname was all wrong - ‘Gaunt’. “Don’t mind the Map, I think it just gone a bit crazy. I’d be, too with all this double names and all,” Harry remarked. “That’s the name of Voldemort’s ancestors from mother’s side – the Gaunts, I mean. And you see the same Tom Marvolo again there. Looks like the guy’s going to flee, by the way, so we need to do something quick,” Harry suddenly leapt to his feet, the Map and baby forgotten.

“The Patronus, Harry!” Hermione reminded him.

“Herm, I don’t think he’ll listen even to myself, never mind the ghostly stag thing,” Harry winced.

“Send one to McGonagall and the others down there, I’ll warn the DA,” Hermione suggested.

“Right, I’m just out of my mind,” Harry sighed, then waved his wand calling out his Patronus, while Hermione, Ron and Ginny did the same. They all briefed the ghostly substances and sent them out.

“The ghosts can help, too,” Narcissa supplied suddenly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry beamed at her and made some strange twist motion with his wand, which brought several ghosts out of the walls around them. “Hello, friends! I know you must be tired after all this battle, but I need your help again,” he addressed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: "False Start" or "Catch Me If You Dare":  
> Everyone tries to catch the Dark Lord while he tries to catch up with all those missing years of memories. Narcissa is revealed of her hard duty of mothering baby Dark Lord. Why?


End file.
